The world is full of people who love to run along the beach with the sun beating down on them. They run until their lungs burn and their legs ache and little rivulets of sweat trickle their way down the small of their impact-weary spine to soak the waistband of their short shorts. They look healthy and tanned and wear an air of superiority as they run past those of us who do not smell hot, salty or pungent.

I am not one of those people.

I like to walk along the beach listening to the waves rather than the hammering of my own heart as it tries to keep up with my feet. I like to feel the sun soaking gently into my skin, allowing it to slowly absorb the vitamin D without poking it’s UV fingers into the cancer cells lying in wait to be activated by the furious sweating off of sunscreen. I like to walk gently, allowing my spine and knee joints to warm and flex through their range of movement, absorbing the impact calmly and steadily as any suspension system should.

When those joggers are sitting slumped in a chair in the corner of the old age home, their zimmer frame untouched because of the sheer effort it will take to unstick their knees and hips so that they can stand, I will amble over to them and smile sweetly, trying not to look too obviously at the brown spots marring their prematurely aged skin, and I will offer to pass them the remote control before I head off to the beach for a nice walk. And while the glare of their too white feet will blind me for an instant, I will be thankful that I was never a jogger!